Surprise Encounters
by LucilleLoo
Summary: She found his amulet by accident, and he was feeling generous. And bored. Loki/OFC pwp.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, yada yada.  
Author's Note: After some poking and prodding by my best friend this little PWP one-shot was born. It's sat on my hard drive for a while, so I figured I might as well share it.

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In her mind's eye she saw him so clearly. The clips of the New York battle and leaked S.H.I.E.L.D. footage had planted so distinctly in her mind the seamless athleticism of his movements, the hard glint in his eye, the conspiratorial smirk pulling at his lips, the effortless strength of the violence done at his hand. She wondered what those long fingers and all that power would feel like.

The sheer destruction he caused should have made her stop dead in her tracks – she liked to think of herself as a good person, and good people didn't fantasize about being fucked into the mattress by murderers.

But there was a little voice at the back of her mind that came unbidden, which sounded so unlike herself growling louder and louder the more she tried to ignore it: But he is a _god_.

She shuddered, fingers wrapping around her necklace: a bright green jewel she found tucked away in a vintage store under the marketing ploy of "Treasures of Asgard!". It had been a year since the Avengers made their mark, and things had never been the same.

Like for example, she had never been so horny, for so long, so badly in her life.

Hours spent pouring over mythological volumes, news coverage, and the dirty minded ramblings of the like-minded on the internet the past few months only made her more and more enamored, more and more obsessed and willing in her fantasy. She had lost count of the number of nights she laid in an empty bed, tossing and turning, until finally giving in and snaking a hand down between her own legs to find a moment's release so that she could fall asleep for work the next morning.

And tonight was definitely going to be one of those nights.

She closed her eyes and sighed, anticipation and shame heightening her already building excitement. She imagined him, dark hair, bright eyes, all sharp angles and lean muscle. She could feel the cold chill of his skin and the layers of leather against his chest. Hands gripped her, one brutally fisted in her hair and another at her hip, hard enough to bruise and the phantom pain made her wriggle against her sheets. Her fingers ghosted across her belly, down her thighs, teasing herself before she put them where she really wanted them, working in slow circles against hot flesh that was already impossibly wet. In her mind he was already inside of her, pushing and pulling and hurting in all the ways she liked but never knew how to ask for.

She felt the coil tightening low in her abdomen and fought the impulse to speed up her fingers, breath hitching in her throat as she tried to muffle little moans; a single word - a name - escaped and she inched that much closer to that white light …

It was blinding – literally. Her eyes whipped open, stinging in the face of a hot, bright flash that dissipated as quickly as it came, a gust of wind knocking the disheveled coverings off the bed.

"Oh, don't stop on my account," said a voice, a laughing lilt underneath. _That voice_.

She felt adrenaline and fear flood her system, paralyzing her at the sight before her eyes. The God of Mischief, in all his terrible glory, watched her intently; a cat with his mouse. He dwarfed her room with all his height, black hair slicked back, the column of his pale neck framed by the high collar of his dark tunic. She all but shouted, "Oh my God!"

"Hmm," he stepped more fully out of the shadows, a little smile pulling, mischief and something darker gleaming in his eyes, "- yes. Although perhaps not the one you were expecting?" His voice was low and husky, like velvet pulled across sandpaper. He looked at the girl almost expectantly, ready to gauge her reaction. Her hesitation prompted him to continue. "Odd, since you were just mewling my name so _pathetically_." He spat out the word, all condemnation on the turn of a dime.

She could hear the blood pounding in her ears against the silence. _This is ridiculous!_

"Reading about me, were you?" Loki skimmed one long elegant finger down the page of the open book on her desk, feeling her eyes hot on him, unable to look away as his presence towered filling every ounce of room to spare; tapping a single word, he looked up to lock eyes with her and broke into a smile, eyes crinkling. "'Breaker of Worlds' according to legend," he boasts, savoring the words, one hand coming to rest over his heart. "Sounds _messy_. And yet still you call to me."

"I didn't-"

"Oh but you did. You're wearing something of mine around your pretty little neck." He flicked his wrist in her direction before starting to walk a slow circle from the desk and around the bed. She felt the stone at her chest pulse and jumped in surprise. "Norns know why you ended up with one." He sounded exasperated. "I intended them to find their way into the hands of the prominent – not the insignificant".

She felt herself continue to gape at him, mentally going over the events of the day and wondering if maybe she went on a drinking bender without remembering it.

Realization only hit her then that she was stark nude in her bed, hair every which way. Loki watched the gravity (absurdity) of the situation wash over her face, a pink blush, and decided that perhaps she wasn't a _complete_ waste. Her eyes darted across the bed quickly, looking for something, anything, to cover up with before she looked up at him through her eyelashes, more than helpless.

He regarded her for a moment - the rapid hammer of her heartbeat, her long limbs and all that unmarked skin, the way his stone hung in the valley between her breasts - before he whispered, "World breaker. I wonder what _else_ I could break."

His voice sent a visible shiver through her body. A promise and a threat all at once. A moan escaped before she could help herself.

He was at her side in an instant, hand grabbing hard at her jaw and yanking her face closer to his own. "I'm going to ruin you," he murmured, dark green eyes churning like the sea during a storm. His thumb brushed delicately across her lips before he continued, "and perhaps if you're lucky, I'll take the time to rebuild you."

Her lips trembled, searching for a reply. "Please," she whined, fear and excitement lacing in her veins. She honestly had no idea what she was asking for. He was a god – an unstable one at that. He could kill her if he wanted to.

Why did that make her want him so much?

"Please what?" Loki demanded, breath hot on her face as he pulled at her throat, making her neck strain to meet his grip. "Please don't?" he asked with a growl, mocking, nose mere inches from her own. He shoved her back onto the bed, her body bouncing against the springs and burning at the loss of contact. "I've seen every thought that has passed across your mind when you lie here, night after night, trying in vain to sate your lust. You crave subjugation, you're practically begging for it. Lucky for you, your god has come to answer your prayers. Come here."

His tone left no room for argument and she scooted across the bed, closer to him. She could feel herself trembling, wanting and fearing his touch.

"Kneel," he said, a little smirk hiding beneath his snarl. She felt something low inside her contract in pleasure at the word, thighs brushing together and creating a delicious friction as she changed her position, resting her weight on her knees and the bottoms of her feet.

Her breath was shaky. From her new spot in such close proximity she allowed herself to really look at him for the first time, gaze wandering from his boots up to his eyes and everywhere in between, admiring the expanse of his shoulders, the way his torso tapered into a narrow waist, the graceful strength poised in his hands. This was very real.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes … sir?" She admitted, unsure of just how to address him. She'd be lying if she hadn't called him 'Master' in her head more than once, but she didn't want to look like a complete puddle at his feet right off the bat, no matter if its what she felt like.

"Usually when I've got a whore on her back its 'my lord'," he gave a shrug of his shoulders, as if it was the most natural topic of conversation in the world, "but perhaps 'sir' fits the modern woman … Now, tell me what you want." She felt his hand rake through her hair, fingers brushing her scalp and sending ripples of goosebumps down her arms. His grip tightened, pulling her closer.

"You know," she whispered, unable to look him in the eye. Her arousal was becoming painful, a great yawning ache at her center. Being the sole object of his attention was almost too much to bear. She wriggled in his grasp.

A cold slap from his free hand sparked pain up the side of her cheek, the sting of it making heat pool between her legs. Slender fingers wrapped around her thin neck, the chill of his skin on one of her favorite places to be touched caused pleasure to shoot through her. He stepped closer and the unyielding leather of his coat brushed against her hardened nipples; she whimpered against his hand and he smiled despite himself. "Of course I do you silly girl," Loki cooed, squeezing the fingers around her neck gently. "I want to hear you _say_ it."

"I want you," she said, straining against him as much she could.

"How?" he asked, leaning in close.

"However you want me." He squeezed tighter around her neck. "I want you to use to me. I want to touch you." She felt like she was babbling but she couldn't stop it. "I want – I want to feel all that – that power." The tug against her hair made her scalp burn and she moaned.

"Oh, but I do like this," he grinned, bending his long frame to look her in the eye. "Show me," he whispered, voice coarse against her, issuing a challenge.

She brought greedy hands up to his waist, fear only heightening her excitement. She might only have one chance to get fucked by a god and she wasn't going to waste it by cowering. If he wanted to kill her, he would have done so by now with nothing more than the bat of an eyelash.

He was frustratingly covered in layers – aesthetically pleasing yes, but finding the quickest way to his cock was proving difficult. She tucked her hands under the overlay of his tunic, seeking out the clasp to his trousers.

She felt his eyes roaming over her as she worked and felt a surge of confidence. She was conscious of how her body must have looked from his vantage point, so she leaned into him, pushing her ass out, bringing her arms closer together to make her breasts appear fuller. The hand at the back of her head tensed and she counted that as one point for her.

Her hand brushed against his hardness straining against the laces of his trousers and she felt herself contract in excitement. She palmed him through the leather, looking up into his face, searching for permission or approval. He eyed her with a cool expression, jaw set and his face all sharp, impassive angles.

She kept her eyes locked on his as she began to undo the ties, anticipation making her breath hitch here and there. If someone didn't touch her clit soon, she swore she was going to die.

She worked her hand against his pants, pulling them open and far enough down on his hips to free his erection. She broke eye contact so that she could look at the object of her desire all these long months. The empty ache inside of her intensified as she slid her hand reverently down the generous length, fingers squeezing at the girth she would give anything to feel inside of her. She pressed her thighs together, the indirect pressure taking some of the edge off and making her moan. She could feel how wet she was, how wetter still she was growing while she pumped her hand over Loki's manhood, her grip firm but slow.

"Please," she whispered up at him.

He ran his hands through her hair, brushing it out of her face before knotting his fingers against her scalp once again. "Please, what?" he demanded, voice low and silky, completey in control despite her best efforts. He sounded like what chocolate felt like.

"May I, sir?" she pleaded, inching forward on the bed.

He grasped his cock at the base of it with his free hand in reply, and urged her head forward.

She didn't waste any time, sucking the head into her mouth and working it for a moment before slowly letting his cock sink down her throat inch by inch, as much as she could. She felt the ever present touch of his hand at the back of her head, pushing and pulling, guiding her movements firmly but gently, only allowing her to have as much as he wanted. She would push forward and he would tug her back, forcing her to focus her attentions where he wanted. Her hands grabbed at his length, willing him to move, to thrust, to let her push him into the back of her throat. She sucked, bobbing her head when he allowed it, and then held frustratingly still when it suited him.

She moaned against him and she heard him breath in sharply above her, the first sign he'd graced her with of the pleasure he surely must have been feeling.

Loki's free hand joined the other fisted in her hair; she felt him finally begin to move, thrusting into her mouth, slowly at first and then with increasing force. She moved her hands onto the bed, kneeling on all fours to brace herself. She felt her hips begin to move, grinding against the air in a desperate attempt to dull the building ache. She looked up into his eyes as he fucked her mouth, saw the set lines of his mouth smirking down at her. His once bright eyes were dark with pleasure and dark hair was falling into his face with every thrust. She closed her eyes and tightened the seal of her mouth around him and was rewarded with a moan of his own.

"Is that what you wanted," he asked, breathy but deep. "To be _used_ by your god?" He was growling now, voice like gravel raking across her spine. She moaned again against him and he laughed.

He pulled her head back sharply, and his cock left her mouth with an audible pop. She gasped, finally able to draw full breaths into her lungs. He grabbed her by the jaw, forcing her to look at him. She was covered in a thin beading of sweat, pretty face wet and red, ample chest heaving. "So eager to please."

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"Turn around, on your knees, and I'll give you what you need," Loki commanded, a little smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. She really did have promise, he mused. He liked looking at her, especially when she was all but pleading for his touch. Aesir were usually so willowy and sturdy; this one had curves and valleys and fragility. She was so willing for his touch, so willing to be broken and bent. The promise of complete and total control handed to him without reservation was too tempting to pass up. He felt his pride and arousal swell in equal measure.

She flipped over as quick as she could, lowering herself onto her forearms, raising her hips and giving him an inviting view. She felt the bed dip as his knees pushed her legs together and framed them. The brush of his jacket and the hem of his tunic tickled the backs of her thighs and she sighed, pushing back into him as much as she dared.

She felt his hand slide over her ass, giving it a little appreciative squeeze before place his palm against the small of her back. It was cold, causing gooseflesh to ripple out up her spine and around her sides, making her breasts feel heavy as they brushed against the sheets.

Loki gripped himself and steadied at her entrance. Heat was radiating off her from every angle, tingling against his naturally cooler Jotun blood. He wondered what it would feel like when he was buried in it.

She mewled when she felt the tip of him press against her, teasing. She was slick all over; if it was possible to literally be dripping, she was sure she was. His slow and measured movements as he dominated her were driving her crazy in every way. "Yes," she pleaded, writhing against him. "Yes, please."

She felt the long line of his back press against her own, his voice hot and insistent against the shell of her ear as she shivered. "Hush," he admonished, both hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. "Make a sound and I stop, understood?" She caught herself as she was about to say yes, instead simply nodding her head.

Loki watched her face, a mischievous and curious gleam in his eye as he pushed forward, the head of his cock sinking inside. She shut her eyes, mouth opening in a silent moan as her fingers fisted into the sheets. He pushed in further, slowly, again only allowing her as much of himself as he deemed her worthy. He bit his lip with the effort of it, the unyielding hot warmth of her burning into his skin, gripping him. He felt her tighten around him, her walls trying to coax him to move further, to give her the friction they both so desperately desired.

The urge to moan, to cry out her frustration and pleasure, was torture in and of itself. She lowered her head further, resting it on the mattress and pushed her hips back into him, silently pleading.

Loki straightened himself upright, moving his hands further up along her hips, skimming her sides as he began to make more frequent, shallow thrusts. He saw how rapidly she was breathing, felt her squirm against him deliciously and he had to admit he was impressed with her restraint. _Perhaps I'll have to try harder,_ he thought.

He pulled out, almost completely, and lingered there for a moment. He gripped her hips before thrusting in to the hilt, mercilessly and without warning. She let out a wail beneath him, a sound caught somewhere between surprise, pleasure and pain. He grinned in satisfaction before bringing his hand down sharply against her behind, the crack of palm against flesh ringing against the walls. "And you were being so good," he tsked and she felt the rumble of his chuckle against her. He stilled, and she fisted her hands in frustration.

_Fucking bastard_, she thought. _Really though, what did you expect?_, her subconscious spat at her through a haze of lust.

She raised herself up onto her palms, on all fours, swaying back against him, urging him to move again. She squeezed around him, felt him pressed deep inside her. He was stretching her deliciously, the sweet stinging pain of it sending shocks to her throbbing clit.

She looked over her shoulder at him, hair falling every which way, eyes pleading. He pressed inside her again, gently, rocking against her slowly in a maddening pace for what felt like moments, fingers needing at her hips, dipping around and coming so close to where she wanted but never quite reaching it.

She ground her teeth and held back a sob. The slide of him, in and out, in and out, the sweet pull when he would leave her only to push back in. She pressed her legs more firmly together between his own, increasing the friction of his movements. Loki slid one hand up her back to grasp her shoulder, stilling her against his thrusts, the rhythmic slap his body riding her own the only sound in the room besides her desperate panting.

_This was so much better,_ he thought. He could feel all that delicious tension, the way it drew her back taut, how her insides fluttered against him, so close and yet so far; the pretty little bauble around her neck let him touch her mind and he felt the exquisite torment he was forcing her to endure. It nearly doubled his pleasure and he felt himself begin to thrust into her, harder, faster.

The hand on her shoulder reached out for the long hair trailing over her back, wrapping around his fist and pulling, sending shocks of pleasure and pain through her scalp. "Let me hear you," he said between gritted teeth, his free hand giving her ass another hard smack.

She moaned immediately, a desperate and low sound as she pushed back into him, back arching painfully against his brutal thrusts and the relentless hold on her hair.

He was pounding against her mercilessly, hitting a new spot every time inside, making her ache. "Yes, yes, yes", she whispered, pleasure coiling despite the pain. He was in complete and utter control; he could literally fuck her into the floor, break her neck, ride her hard and put her away wet. She was in bed with a _god. _She started to cry his name. _Please, Loki, please, please, Loki_ …

In an instant she was on her back, legs hooked around his waist, hands held tight in his own at her sides, spread and bare before him. He adjusted the angle, pushing into her deeper, watching her face.

"Fuck me," she moaned, pushing her hips up and into him, grinding against him in time.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asked, voice hoarse with his own pleasure as he watched her breasts bounce in time with his thrusts, a lovely blush making her sweat slicked skin glow pink. She nodded, unable to speak.

He let go of her hands then, bending over her, completely enveloping her, the rough metal of his coat and tunic brushing harshly over her nipples, his body pushing her into the mattress. She felt fingers wrap around her neck and squeeze, hard enough to make her gasp. Her hand flew up to grab at it, not to remove it but simply to hold it there, to feel his fingers dig into her flesh. "You're mine," he rasped into her ear as he fucked her deeper, letting the hard length of his cock punctuate his words. "You're for my pleasure, and mine alone. You were _made_ for this."

She closed her eyes, vision blurring at the corners, letting the sound of his voice run through her head, feeling every hard thrust shake her, the hard press of his pelvis against her clit melding pleasure with the pain of his brutal thrusts. She moaned through his grip on her throat, hitching her legs up higher on his waist.

"Say my name," he growled hot against her cheek. "Scream it, and maybe I'll let you have your release."

"Loki," she choked out, tears at her eyes. She was close – to blacking out or coming or dying, she couldn't tell which.

"Again" he demanded, this time loosening the grip of his fingers to let them seek out her clit, rubbing in quick and firm circles. He was, after all, a benevolent god.

"Loki!" she cried, bucking against his hand. She felt his release inside her, cool and pulsing. He pushed in again, once, twice, more and she felt that familiar coil tighten and spring within her, gushing waves making her shudder and writhe and pant. "Oh," she moaned, low and long. "Oh,_ my god_."

"Yes," he murmured, face buried in her neck. "Exactly."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still not mine.  
Author's Note: Thank you to those who read and followed :) This is the second part I wrote after I got good feedback from my friends, and since a few of you are actually reading and have expressed interest I decided to put this up too. This has only been edited by me, and not very closely since it was just written to be read by my friends so please forgive any mistakes. I've been working on the 3rd part for a while, so maybe there will be another update (eventually). Thanks!

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Alice felt him shift against her as they both exhaled. He rolled off and to the side, one arm still pillowed underneath her head. She felt her shoulders stiffen as the reality of the situation sank in; not only had she just had the roughest, kinkiest (best) sex in her – admittedly short – life, it was with a stranger. And that stranger just happened to be Loki. It wasn't anything she hadn't imagined doing with him before, or had tried to experience with a few other fumbling boys; it was the fact that not only had she done all those things, but that it had felt so _right_. She wasn't thinking about the weird mark on her stomach she hated, or how her body must have looked at this or that angle, or if she was 'doing it right'. Being completely under his spell was … well … liberating.

She lifted her head in an attempt to put some space between them, his stillness and the silence letting self-consciousness begin to sink in. She felt his fingers curl around her shoulder much to her surprise, holding her in place and against him.

Alice looked over at him, taking in his profile. The dark eyelashes, long and pointed nose, the strong jaw, dark hair fanning out against the pillow. His eyes were closed, one hand on his chest, his breathing still coming down. She swallowed and looked back up at the ceiling, blinking. And then she broke into giggles.

Loki looked at her out of the corner of his eyes, half irritation, half curiosity.

He'd never actually _been _with any of the people who wore his charms over the centuries he had been making them. Sometimes he'd use them to control mortals, or to keep track of particularly important ones; during the days of old he would occasionally gift them (and a few of his powers) to those priests and priestesses who were particularly faithful.

The amulet had seemed to combine her pleasure with his own, had thrust him inside her mind, her thoughts, her memories. Fucking her had allowed him to experience something rare after almost 1500 years of existence, and he was lying to himself if he thought he didn't want to experience that again. He could feel the pull he had over her, her utter want and devotion. He saw her anger, her quirks, her passion. She had _heart_. In spite of himself, he found himself liking her a little bit.

Despite her inane giggling.

"Hush," he shushed her, intentionally sounding more irritable than he really was.

Alice let herself sink back into his arm, taking the possessive hand at her shoulder as permission to press herself closer into his side. Loki raised himself up onto his elbow at that, looking down at her. He had half expected her to be a fumbling, quivering mass of tears or regret or hysteria. Was he disappointed? Or perhaps impressed …

A trail of bruises was beginning to develop on her skin, a road map of their previous activities. He let one lazy finger trail over the marks across her hip, feeling her shudder at the contact. Up, up, he dragged his hand, feather light touches over her stomach and around her sides before smoothing fingers over the red circle around her neck and jaw. His skin was so cool to the touch, raising the hairs at the back of her neck and making her sigh.

"I like you like this," he murmured, letting his fingers drag through the hair at the base of her skull before bringing his hand back down to rest on her chest in between her breasts, feeling her heart hammering beneath. "Marked as mine." Alice noticed again the growl that seemed to permanently reside in his voice and she thought how it could make even the most innocent of words carry a dark edge. She shuddered and she was certain he could feel it.

"I like me like this too," she whispered, laying her own hand atop his own, idly playing with his fingers, feeling his uncertain gaze on her face. She felt as though he was sizing her up, getting ready to pounce – whether that pounce was pleasant or not, she wasn't so sure.

Loki held her gaze, unwavering, challenging, and she felt him place his hand deliberately between her legs, the palm of it pressing firmly against her clit while long fingers ghosted around her entrance, teasing. Alice felt her sharp intake of breath, nerves jumping at the touch in both pleasure and pain. She wanted nothing more than for him to take her again, to keep him here and happy as long as she could, but _fuck_, it hurt.

Loki saw her wince. He smiled, all teeth, watching her face wash in the alternating sensations. He entertained the idea of forcing himself on her, watching her squirm for a different reason. He'd reached the crux of his experiment. That he was going to use her had never been a question, rather,_ how_? He had watched her in the weeks since she found his charm, something at the back of his mind tugging every time she thought about him hard enough – especially when she was laying in her pathetic excuse of a bed. Loki had considered taking the necklace away from her simply so that he wouldn't be bothered by her constant, unknowing harassment; but the more he watched, the more he realized how much he _liked_ to watch. Try as he might, Loki had to concede to himself that every stroke of her fingers against herself was a stroke against his ego as well. What struck him really, however, was how pure her want of him was; she knew so much about him, from the Midgard coverage of his attempted invasion to the legends scrawled in books for centuries – his true parentage, his failures, his triumphs, his cruelty and mischief.

And still she wanted him. Perhaps loyalty deserved rewards.

He kept his hand working against her, slowly, but relaxed the firmness of his ministrations. Dipping his head, Loki kissed the sensitive skin beneath her jaw before he allowed himself to watch her face again, feeling her body begin to wriggle against his own. She was whimpering now, pleading both with and against his insistent fingers. Loki felt himself smile against her throat, sadistic playfulness reaching his eyes and making them crinkle at the corners. "Does it hurt?" he asked innocently, as if he didn't know, a mocking lilt under the husky gravel of his voice.

Alice nodded yes, but made no move to stop him. She was sore and tired but it felt good in spite of the pain. She didn't really know what she wanted. If he left now, was that it? Would he kill her? Would she ever see him again?

"Shall I stop?" Loki asked, one dark brow arching, sensing her inner turmoil. "I forget how utterly frail mortals are," he mused..

"No," Alice mewled, surprised at her own whine. "Please, it feels good, I just -" she started to explain. Her fingers had found their way wrapped around his wrist, holding his hand in place between her legs and alternatively tugging it away when pain would layer over the pleasure. She craned her neck so that she could watch the flex of his fingers against her, how sure and steady he was. Watching him be in utter control of her seemed somehow to heighten the sensation of it all.

She was wet, but Loki allowed her a moment's reprieve as he brought his hand up to his mouth, licking at his fingers, eyes still locked on her hers. He watched her breath hitch, saw her pupils dilate ever so slightly. Her lips curled into a small smile when she realized what he was doing, and he resisted the urge to smirk back down at her. Loki moved his hand back and Alice pushed against him, spreading her legs to give him greater access. The hand not wrapped around his own tugged at the layers he was still wearing. She felt so warm, she couldn't imagine anything better than feeling his cool skin up against her own. She wanted to watch the rest of him move, too.

Loki allowed her to pull at his clothes uselessly, frustration wrinkling her brow. He in turn continued to leisurely stroke his index finger up and down her slit, skin only just skimming past skin, the ghost of a touch. He felt her press against his hand more urgently and only then did he allow his fingers to seek out where she really wanted, rubbing the wetness from his mouth across the sensitive flesh in a firm press before circling her nub once, twice.

Alice shuddered and Loki felt her breathy moan against his neck as her body curled against him, legs spreading further apart, hot skin hitting cool air. He nipped her neck again, burying his head against her shoulder and seeking out her thundering pulse beneath her skin and placing slow, deliberate kisses against it. Alice arched her head away from him, silently willing him to keep his attention where it was. He kissed around the bruising, biting when he felt like it and making her jump.

The fingers against her shifted and he lessened the firmness of his touch, instead sweeping across the sensitive bundle of nerves with one practiced finger, back and forth, back and forth, quicker and quicker, the only sound in the room her ceaseless panting. He would slow when he felt her body begin to tense, letting his fingers trail down to her opening to push and tease, allowing some pain to mix with her pleasure, before moving back up to her clit and resuming his maddening pace. "Let me hear you," he commanded, his whisper only underlining his harsh urgency. She felt how hard he was against her knee and confidence bloomed in her chest. "Tell me how much you want it," he coaxed in time with his fingers.

Alice ground her hips against his hand as much she could as he bit at her neck one last time, a strangled moan escaping her lips. She would definitely have marks. Loki raised his head so that he could watch her as he worked her to her peak, her mouth hung open in pleasure while her brow knitted in pain. He smiled as he pulled her from the edge before she could fall, again and again. Alice wanted to cry at the frustration of it. Over and over she felt that familiar heat pooling low in her belly, her insides contracting in pleasure at the smooth slide of his fingers only for it all to suddenly stop as he quit his torment just seconds too soon. She was groaning now, half pleasure/half pain.. She pulled harder at the leather covering his chest, "Fucking take this off," she growled. If he wouldn't let her come, she could at least get _something_.

Loki rewarded her with a playful smack against her mound, the sting of it making her writhe, her insides contracting. "_You_ do as your told, not I," he said, thumb swiping over her clit hard enough to almost hurt.

Alice was beginning to love his brand of punishment and she resisted a smile at the roughness in his voice and the promise it held. She held his eyes for a moment, defiant, contemplating if she should purposefully make him strike her again. "Please," she moaned, switching tactics and running her palms over his chest, moving her hips in time with skilled press of his fingers. "Please, I want to feel you." She felt him regard her with a look that was acutely observant.

"That's better," Loki murmured, moving so that his body more fully covered her own. "Perhaps such a simpering thing as yourself can be taught." She felt him sink in between her legs, the delicious weight of him pushing her into the mattress, trapping her between it and him. "Shall I keep you?" he asked. He moved his hands to either side of her head, resting himself on his forearms, his face intimidatingly close. "Should I give you what you need?"

She could barely look him in the eyes, but doing so fanned the heat low in her belly. "Yes, please, sir," she all but begged, delighting at the secretive smile on his face that disappeared as quick as it came.

Alice felt his lips press into a bruising kiss, crushing with their intensity but controlled. She sighed into him, opening her mouth to let her tongue seek his own. The pace, like everything else he had subjected her to tonight, was slow and maddening and utterly out of the realm of her control. Alice arched up into him, breasts pushing against hard leather and tangling her fingers into the thick blackness of his hair. She tried in vain to force his kiss deeper, to nip at his lip, but Loki kept a steady hold against her own, hands keeping her head in place.

She saw from behind her closed eyes a green hue that sparked and then faded, and when she opened them the last remnants of the magic were glittering out of sight, fading across his skin. She gasped against him as the sudden cool touch of his now bare skin from the waist up against her and he chuckled into the kiss before breaking apart and eying her with smug satisfaction.

Alice watched him begin to move down her body, unhurried, dropping kisses down her neck, across her chest, her stomach. She closed her eyes and smiled as he settled between her legs, hoisting her thighs over each shoulder. She felt her heels already beginning to dig into his back, a silent plea.

She felt her legs shaking as he skimmed his fingers across them, over her hips. He was alternating soft, wet kisses and painful, sucking bites on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. He had been playing with her for so long, she was so close and so sensitive and so frustrated. "Please," she groaned, taking all the strength she had left not to force his head where she wanted it. Deep down she thought he probably would enjoy a little domination himself, but she wasn't about to do anything foolish enough to get her killed, or worse - discarded.

He looked up and met her eyes, watched her mouth twitch in that becoming-familiar mix of pleasure/pain as he nipped at her one last time. "You know so much about me. Tell me, what do they call me?" he asked, all innocence and provocation as only Loki could.

Alice thought, mind scrambling for a moment before she wriggled between his hands. "Silvertongue," she moaned, finally.

She felt his breath against, hot and tingling. "Good girl," he replied. "Let me show you why." Alice felt herself tense in anticipation and apprehension, hands fisting in the sheets.

She felt his tongue dart out to touch her, one swift swipe before he replaced it with another, this one longer and harder, the flat of his tongue running along her. He reached the apex of her sex but avoided her clit, dancing around it instead before lowering his mouth to begin the torturous drag against her again and again. Alice wanted to howl. She felt her hips start to rock against his mouth in a vain attempt to bring him closer, harder, faster, legs clenching against the firm fingers that held her in place, bruising and pushing.

Loki shifted, lifting her hips slightly so that he could work on her at an angle, holding her in place and allowing him to look down at her. Alice was fascinated watching him, the slow bob of his head, his unflinching and heated gaze. He was inside her in every way she could have imagined. It was overwhelming and she felt herself contract in pleasure. She swore he was smiling, and the glint in his eye assured her that he was.

She threw her head back, humming her pleasure and desperation when his tongue finally sought out her nub, drawing it into his mouth and worrying it. Alice felt her release closing in, as if she was standing on the shore, watching waves drawing nearer and nearer to finally breaking against the cliffs. She was panting his name now, a constant and breathy prayer. Without realizing it, her fingers had wound into his hair, pulling as hard as she could, satisfaction hitting low inside her at the feel of the hard tug against his scalp. She wanted to hurt him, scratch, bite, pull, whatever she could. The thought of it only pushed her higher.

Loki took his time against her, holding her pleasure where he wanted it as he had all night. If he intended to keep her, she had to understand that only that which he wished would ever come to pass – he could deny her the rest of her natural life if he felt so inclined. The rush at the realization drew another muffled moan out of him and into her, the hum of it running through his tongue and making her squeeze tighter at his hair. Unbeknownst to her he was using his considerable power to hold off her own orgasm, preferring instead to keep her in this wanton state. When he had begun, he had intended to rile her up only to leave her, wet and unsatisfied and delirious in frustration and pining for him to return – perhaps for an hour, or a day, or a month – Hel, maybe even a year.

But she had been so good. And he didn't want to drive her mad; not yet, anyway.

Loki lessened the hold of his power over her and Alice immediately gasped as she felt herself jump impossibly close to her own undoing. She was writhing against him now, legs locked around him as she rode his tongue, hands holding his mouth firmly against her cunt, heels bruising against against his hips as she used the leverage to buck against him. She felt him blow gently against her hot skin and kiss her once, twice, before he pulled the flat of his tongue across her clit and that was it.

Her hands held him still, keening moans filling the room in time with the ripples of her orgasm flooding through her. She felt Loki's eyes on her as she let the wave pass, legs going slack against him. She was sure she was smiling like an idiot.

Alice reached up for him in a haze, fingers going for his waist; his arousal was evident and she was not about to let _that_ performance go without a little reciprocated appreciation. Gods help her, she still wanted him.

Loki grabbed her wrist before it could reach its target. "No," he said.

"But-," she began to protest.

"You haven't earned that." He was over her again, gaze boring into her own. "I'll be watching. If you even think about touching yourself outside of my presence you will never see me again. Mine are the only hands that will pleasure you, do you understand?"

"Yes, I-"

And he was gone.


End file.
